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Friday, February 28, 2014

The last day of December, the counselor and I were taking
down the Christmas tree. It was a
beautiful sunny day and we had the doors open.
The kids were helping, running in and out, stopping to help package ornaments
and commenting on the lovely days of Christmas.

Quite literally, it
was a perfect day.

I think I had cooked something with butter and sugar; maybe
a peach cobbler or peanut butter oatmeal cookies. I love when the counselor’s home; we eat,
love, embrace, share.

The kids had all run out to the trampoline and the counselor
and I took a moment to steal a kiss. His
eyes sparkled. Do you know how
many times I’ve been lost in those eyes?
Like the stars, too many to count.
We started tearing down the artificial tree; talking, teasing, just
feeling happy and I watched as he dragged the tree out the back door to the
garage. Something came over me and I
felt so happy. Right there at that
moment, I contemplated the sheer beauty of my life. I wondered how did I get here? Was this a dream? Then, something happened
that I can’t quite explain but I’ll try to do my best.

In my mind, the 41
year-old me and the 25 year-old I
once was started a conversation. I
don’t know how it’s possible, but I literally felt the girl I once was walk
into the room.

25 year-old self: “Wow!
Laura, you’re living an amazing life!
You did good.”

41 year-old self: “I
can’t believe it. If only I’d known back
then everything was going to turn out, think of how differently I might have
lived.”

25 year-old self: “You did the best you could.”

41 year-old self: “I
would have been better, especially to myself.
I would’ve believed in myself.”

This is where the situation turned ugly as the emotions of
that 25 year-old girl entered into my conscious. The sheer happiness I had felt only a moment
earlier was gone. Now, I was feeling
extreme loneliness, anxiety and insecurity.

25 years of age was a difficult time of my life, a time I’m
not very fond of revisiting. My life was
great on the outside. I was a returned
missionary and full-time college student.
I loved my nanny job and was competing in marathons any chance I
had. But inside, I was running from an
ugly past.

At 25, I was on my own and needed to rely on myself more
then ever, but things were catching up with me and it was a juggling act about
to crumble.

How had I forgotten those years and that time? I live such a sheltered like now, had that girl
really been me? It couldn’t have been as
bad as I was feeling it at that moment, but then I remembered. I remembered through emotion the horror of trying to find a safe place in this world. At 25, I was alone. I had kept too many
secrets thinking the things that had happened to me weren’t a big deal. Bad things happen to everyone. I was strong enough to handle it, but I was
drowning. So much of my life was good, I
tried to focus on my blessings, but the memories of abuse haunted me. And, because I was so vulnerable I was unable to fight off new predators.

I turned to see if the counselor was walking
back from the garage. I needed him. I was desperate to run away from the feelings
running through my blood. Why was this
happening?

This experience probably lasted less than a minute when a
word came into my mind like a flashing neon sigh:

USED

I was USED and with the emotions of my past running through me, that's what I felt like. USED. Why would anyone what me? What was I doing here? I didn't deserve this beautiful life and the reality of it stung.

That's when a spirit of calm came over my body, like water drowning out
a fire. It’s a feeling I
immediately recognized because it’s rescued me so many times before. It was the spirit of God, calming my heart
and bringing me out of the experience. The
emotions lifted and I felt safe again. I
looked around and could hear the children on the trampoline. The 25 year-old visitor was gone. She was gone.

In my mind, I immediately asked why? Why did I need to remember the awful place I
was before I met the counselor? I had turned 25 a few months before he came
into my life. He was my hero, he was why
I had survived and again, the word USED – like typeset on a computer screen
came into my mine.

Used:
secondhand; that which has endured use

In a flash, I realized what was happening. I knew what I had to do. I needed to remember. Ideas came into my mind and I could barely keep up with the inspiration. Please watch the below
video. It’s time I reach out to those
who are struggling. It’s what I’ve
wanted to do all along, it’s just now I’ve found the strength because I
remembered. Thank you, God, for letting
me remember the feelings, even for a fleeting moment.

I know the video doesn't fit in this blog layout, so link up to youtube by clicking: project: USED

If you
are under 18 years old, please have a parent sign the waiver (click here to print it off) and bring it
to the session.

If you
own a used dress, you are welcome to bring it; however, there will be
plenty of used/vintage dresses to choose from at the event. I try to purchase dresses
in a variety of sizes.

You
can go barefoot or wear funky shoes.
It’s your call.

Our
goal is to help you feel as beautiful as possible. Come as beautiful as you’d like with
make-up and hair done.

There
is a large shared women's dressing room and one bathroom on sight.

You
may be nervous, but this event is fun.
We all come together to help others.

I am working with some amazing people on this project. Please come. We will have another project: USED in April 2014. I've been collecting used dresses to share. If you participate, a used dress is my gift to you.

What a fantastic idea! I don't know if its me but your video is only spinning out and not uploading both on your site (project used site) and youtube. Oddly I can see the smaller version you have here. Maybe its me but just in case just wanted to give you a heads up.

What is My Dear Trash?

After I was sexually abused, I felt like trash. Through God's love, I was able to find my worth again. My Dear Trash is about finding value where others may not see it, in ourselves, in our world, in our unborn and in our relationships and with God.

View the book trailer for my memoir Starving Girl by clicking on the image below.